


Step One: Cut A Hole In The Box

by fadeverb



Category: Oglaf (Webcomic)
Genre: Blowjobs, Fake Nuns, M/M, Magic Box Makes You Want Whatever's In It, Technically Songfic, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeverb/pseuds/fadeverb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandoval has an elaborate apology planned for Ivan. This time, no pinecones are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step One: Cut A Hole In The Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/gifts).



The guards brought Ivan to the ambassador's quarters in the traditional kidnapping sack. As sacks went, it was a comfortable one: clean, well-ventilated, with a nice silky finish on the inside. He'd been through worse kidnappings by far. More than once! Which was, when he thought about it, the kind of thing that would put some people right off the job, but that was an attitude for quitters. Quitters who would never embrace the glistening breasts of his Mistress.

Not that his track record in that area was great so far either, but again, winners never quit, so gropers probably never quit either. It stood to reason.

The ambassador, in contrast, stood to declaim dramatically. "The apprentice has arrived! --no, no, _out_ of the sack _all_ the way, you're ruining the moment."

The guards unlaced the mouth of the sack further, and deposited Ivan on the floor in a flood of ribbons and glitter. He'd thought some of the silky finish inside that sack had been oddly gritty in places.

The Xoan ambassador consulted the notes written on his forearm. "Sack opens, apprentice has arrived, behold the nuns--" He frowned at the guards. "Where are the nuns? Go get the nuns."

Ivan raised a glittery hand. "The medical nuns?" That didn't bode well, which brought him right back to the standard level of boding for a kidnapping.

The ambassador strode forward to sling an arm around Ivan's shoulders, leaving a large percentage of the airy fabric he'd been draped in lying on the floor behind him. "Ivan--can I call you Ivan? You can call me Sandoval, but only here in my most _private_ of chambers."

Ivan considered the enormous room with its large, open windows, the several guards, various servants in varying arrays of undress, and a rather ominous screen at the back, just past the young man with the basket of flowers. "Your most private chambers?"

"In my public chambers, you will still call me the ambassador. Or perhaps 'Your Most Glistening One'." Sandoval gestured dramatically towards the screen with one hand, while the other gave Ivan a squeeze on the shoulder. "I wanted to offer you an apology. The most glorious apology ever offered on these grounds."

"About the rowboat thing?"

Sandoval looked at him blankly.

"Or that time with the leeches?"

The expression became no less blank, though the ambassador's hand was slowly gliding down the length of Ivan's arm, picking up a coating of glitter along the way.

"The box incident?"

"There was definitely a box involved."

"Oh," Ivan said. "Yes. I feel very apologized to. Thank you. May I go now?"

Sandoval gestured dramatically to the screen. Again. "Bring in the nuns!" he called out, and then added confidentially to Ivan, "I thought you would appreciate these."

Six buxom women hurried out from behind the screen, each wearing a wimple and three strategically placed holy symbols. They raised their songbooks as they settled into a line in front of the screen. One of them hummed a bar, and then they were off:

_Ivan, I got somethin' real important to give you,_  
So just sit down and listen,  
Ivan, you know we've been together such a long, long time  
(such a long time)  
And now I'm ready to lay it all on the line... 

Sandoval frowned. "Why are they all off-key?" His fingers drummed unhappily along Ivan's ribs. "I asked for musical nuns."

A guard nearby cleared his throat. "You asked for musical novices, sir. Every one of them is very new to singing."

"Ah," said the ambassador. "Report to the sand pits for punishment."

"Yes, sir!"

"And take the novices with you."

"Yes, sir!"

The room became far quieter once the novices had been herded out by the guards.

Sandoval stared despondently at where the women had been standing. As did Ivan, though he suspected his wistful staring was for a very different reason. It had been shaping up to be a decent apology, for a few glorious moments. For breasts like that, he could've plugged his ears; they were half-clogged with glitter anyway.

"It was a very good apology," Ivan tried, at last. "I feel apologized to, Ambassador--"

"Sandoval!"

"...Sandoval. Very apologized to. You should consider yourself forgiven. Thoroughly. For everything. Including the things we haven't brought up just now, in case you were thinking of apologizing for them later..." Ivan tried edging towards the door, and discovered that the long fingers resting on his side had the strength of iron bars. "Letting bygones be bygones!"

"We'll skip to the finale," said the ambassador. He dragged Ivan off to the screen as servants hurried forward to throw more handfuls of glitter over the two of them, remove Ivan's clothing, and apply oil to every visible stretch of skin on either of them. Given the ambassador's brisk pace, they left a pile of oiled, glitter-encrusted clothing in their wake, but some of things were applied to or removed from the appropriate body parts. Servants drew back gauzy hangings to reveal a private cushioned area behind the screen.

Then the servants drew back one final less gauzy hanging to reveal a small choir perched awkwardly on the windowsill, songbooks at the ready.

"These ones aren't _novices_ , are they?" Sandoval asked, staring at the choir with narrowed eyes. The choir, consisting of the only people in sight wearing significant quantities of clothing, stared back. "Get on with it."

The choir launched into admittedly far more harmonious song. Or at least a more harmonious version of the one from before.

_You know it's an apology,_  
and my heart is open wide;  
gonna give you something  
so you know what's on my mind 

A glistening servant approached in time to the music, bearing a horribly familiar box.

"No more pinecones!" Ivan said frantically. "I don't even like pine!"

"No pine is involved in this apology," declared the ambassador. "I had all the floorboards removed, flogged, given light refreshment, flogged again, fired, and replaced with less conical wood."

_A gift real special_ , the choir crooned, _so take off the top.  
Take a look inside, it's my dick in a box._

Sandoval spread his arms wide in a dramatic, yet somehow languid, pose. The box-bearing servant set the box in place.

"Oh gods," Ivan said.

Sandoval flipped the lid of the box open. "My sincerest apologies," he said. "To show just how sincere I am, here is my most valuable possession, if you'd like to borrow it. But only until two o'clock; I have an appointment at the sand pits then." His thin eyebrows lifted. "Do you want it?"

"Yes," Ivan said, dropping to his knees. He skidded off the silken pillow there in a terrible oil-induced glide, and had to be set back in place by the servant who no longer held the box, and worse luck for that poor man! "I have never wanted a cock more in my life. Not even when the Mistress stole mine."

"And she didn't share?" Sandoval crossed his arms, while Ivan grabbed for his cock. "I have half a mind to speak with her about--don't pull it _off_ , it doesn't detach."

"It will if I try hard enough," Ivan insisted.

_One, cut a hole in the box._  
Two, put your junk in the box.  
Three, make him open the box.   
And that's the way you do it!  
It's my dick in a box, boy, my dick in a box. 

Sandoval put his hands on Ivan's shoulders. "This," he said, "is a very special penis. It will only detach if sucked hard enough."

Ivan had the vague suspicion that this was not a completely true statement, but he couldn't deny that the ambassador's cock was very, very special. So why wouldn't it have other unusual properties? Who knew what Xoans were like, anyway, aside from being pointy-eared, decadent, and flavored somewhat like rhubarb? Though that last might've been the body oil. He set to work on suction-based detachment of his prize.

_Apologies, a dick in a box._  
Anniversaries, a dick in a box.  
Happy birthday! A dick in a box.  
Ambassadorial meetings, a dick in a box... 

The choir came to a resounding climax. So did the ambassador. Ivan toppled backward onto the cushions, and saw the lid of the box snap shut.

"Apology accepted," Sandoval said. He seemed far less appealing that he had a few seconds before.

Oh. Right. Magic box.

Ivan wiped his mouth. "Weren't you apologizing to me?"

The ambassador stared at him blankly. "No, I'm certain that's not how it goes." He patted Ivan on the head, and walked away. "Guards! The un-kidnapping sack!"

Really, Ivan had experienced far worse kidnappings. Even if he was picking glitter out from between his teeth for weeks.


End file.
